


Carmen

by TiyeTiye



Series: Ivar and Lisbet - Victorian AU [2]
Category: Keep Your Silence, Vikings - Fandom
Genre: Afternoon together, Anatomy, Carmen - Freeform, Covent Garden, Date Night, Dissection, F/M, Ivar being smug, Lisbet being sneaky, NSFW, Sexy sexy opera, Study Date, Studying, night out, opera - Freeform, semi-public smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 22:52:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14365395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiyeTiye/pseuds/TiyeTiye
Summary: After deciding that it's been too long since they've had a night out, Ivar and Lisbet decide to take in an opera.





	Carmen

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Keep Your Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732503) by [livebynight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livebynight/pseuds/livebynight). 



Ivar took another sip of his brandy and picked up a new section of newspaper. It was a beautiful afternoon, even he had to admit it, and for once he had nowhere he needed to be. Lisbet was sitting across from him at the great oak table in his family’s dining room, idly humming a snatch of some song as her gloved hands gently removed the optic nerve from the cow’s eyeball she’d spent the past twenty minutes carefully dissecting. He smiled at her as she finally worked it loose, slicing off a small section that she placed between thin rectangles of glass before inserting her slide into the microscope he’d given her for her last birthday. She caught his eye as she took off her spectacles to look through the eyepiece, smiling back at him before her eyes went round.

“What? Oh - do I have something on my face?! In my hair?!”

“No, no Lisbet, it’s fine - your hair, your face - it’s fine…I…just like looking at you.”

“Oh.” Lisbet smiled, flattered and a little relieved. “Well….you look back at your newspaper for right now. I’m still working.”

Ivar smirked. “I like watching you work too.”

“Ivar  _stop_ ,” she said, struggling to look stern.

“Stop what?”

“Stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like you…..like  _you know what_!” The last came out in a flustered whisper.

“This is how I always look at you.” Ivar said, eyes darting down to her lips as his teeth bit into his own.

“I….I have to finish this.” Lisbet bent back over her microscope, pointedly  _not_  looking at Ivar, one hand on the focus knobs, the other holding a stick of charcoal poised over a sketch pad.

Ivar chuckled, but went back to his newspaper as she’d asked. The news was the usual boring drivel - the same society headlines about this lordling marrying that heiress, more tensions in Africa, the royal family’s latest escapades, another dose of  lunacy from America - he darted an eye over the markets section, but it contained nothing he didn’t already know. A headline in the “Arts and Society” section did catch his attention though.

“Lisbet darling, have you seen this?”

“Still working Ivar.”

“No, Lisbet, I meant this story. Look. Just for a moment.”

Lisbet looked up from her microscope, squinting at the headline until she got her spectacles back into place.

“Carmen?” she asked. “What’s that?”

“Some new opera from Paris, written by that Bizet fellow. It’s opening at Covent Garden next week. Apparently it’s quite good.”

“Did you want to go?”

Ivar thought about it. He hated being out in crowds, but he did like to show off Lisbet, and the weather had been fine enough lately that his legs hadn’t been giving him too much trouble.

“Well…we haven’t had an evening out in a while.”  

Lisbet smiled. “Let’s go then. I can ask Mama if we can use her box.”

“Or we can steal Sigurd’s.”

Lisbet’s smile grew until it matched Ivar’s wicked grin. “Or we can steal Sigurd’s. I like that idea.”

Ivar chuckled. “Me too.”

———————————————————————————————————

Ten days later found Ivar in the parlor of the Corneliussen home, sitting in an armchair across the hearth from Mrs. Corneliussen, waiting for Lisbet to finish dressing and come downstairs. He’d already been offered some excellent brandy, and Mrs. Corneliussen had traveled enough that she was good enough company, but Ivar still itched to be gone. They made it through ten minutes of conversation before the sound of the front door opening announced the return home of Lisbet’s father. Ivar put his brandy down on a side table and got to his feet as the family patriarch entered the room.

Stephen Corneliussen was an imposing presence at the best of times, and he stiffened at the sight of Ivar as he entered the room, before crossing the floor to give his wife a kiss on the cheek.

“Mr. Lothbrok,” he said, straightening up to his full height and giving Ivar the barest of polite nods.

“Mr. Corneliussen,” Ivar said, returning the gesture. “How go things in Parliament?”

“Parliament is…..Parliament. What brings you to my home yet again?”

“I’ve come to escort Lisbet to the opera.”

“The opera?”

“Yes sir.”

“ _You_  attend the opera?”

Ivar struggled to keep from bristling. “I have been known to attend from time to time, sir. My family keeps box seats at Covent Garden.”

Mr. Corneliussen nodded, a bit impressed by this declaration. “Lisbet  _does_  like the opera,” he continued as he turned to pour himself a drink from the sideboard.

“Oh believe me sir, I’ve grown quite well acquainted with  _what she likes_.”

The tapping of Lisbet’s footsteps finallycoming down the stairs cut the rising tension, and all three of them turned towards the door as Lisbet swept into the room, her curly hair pinned up on the crown of her head and adorned with a rose, pearls in her ears and a thick rope of them around her neck, wearing a dusty pink gown that brought out the golden amber tones of her skin, embroidered all over with even more roses.

“Oh Papa, you’re home,” she said, smiling and crossing the room to give him a fond peck on the cheek.

“Hello dear. You look lovely,” Mr. Corneliussen said, returning her smile.

“Yes…quite lovely,” Ivar added. “Like Persephone in springtime.” The gown was cut low in the neck and across her shoulders, leaving quite a bit of dark bronze skin on display, and Ivar was having difficulty tearing his eyes away from the smooth, elegant column of her neck.  

Lisbet gave him a smile, her dark eyes crinkling. “Why thank you, Mr. Lothbrok. Forgive me for making you wait.”

“It was no trouble Ms. Corneliussen,” Ivar quickly assured her, taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss on her gloved fingers, his eyes locked on hers the entire time. “It was well worth the wait if it brought me this vision that stands before me.”

Lisbet gave him a flustered smile and Ivar fancied that he could feel her heart begin to race beneath his fingers. His gaze grew so wicked Lisbet had to break their connection, eyes darting around the room until they landed on the clock on the mantelpiece.

“Oh, we had better be going,” she said, smoothing her skirts and taking a firm grip on her handbag. “We don’t want to be late.”

“Oh but my dear, it’s so early still!” said Mrs. Corneliussen. “It’s barely past 7:00 and the performance won’t start until 8:30 at least. Why hurry?”

“Because Ivar needs the extra time go get up the stairs to his family’s box,” Lisbet explained. “And if we go now, the coach will be able to drop us off right by the doors and we won’t have to walk as far.” Lisbet paused to give her mother a fond kiss on the cheek. “But I promise Mama, we shall hide ourselves and not let anybody see us until the fashionable time.”

Mrs. Corneliussen laughed and patted Lisbet’s hand. “Ah, well then have a good time dear. And you too Mr. Lothbrok.” Ivar gave her a respectful bow in return.

Mr. Corneliussen hadn’t missed the moment that had passed between Ivar and his daughter, and was giving Ivar a dark look over Lisbet’s head as he helped her into her coat.

“My dear, be sure you take your maid with you,” he said.

“Oh but  _Papa_ ,” Lisbet pouted, “We’re just going to the  _opera_ , I’m sure I won’t need—”

“ _Lisbet_ ,” Mr. Corneliussen said, cutting her off with a warning tone. “Take. Your. Maid.”

———————————————————————————————————

They only hit a bit of traffic on their way to the Royal Opera House, so Ivar’s coachman was able to drop off the three of them, Ivar, Lisbet, and her maid, a cheerful redhead named Abigail, right in front of the massive building. Lisbet took Ivar’s offered arm and slowly walked with him as he carefully made his way up the front steps and through the great front doors. There were only a few other people milling about in the foyer, and while Ivar handed their tickets off to an usher and went to find them some programs, Lisbet beckoned Abigail over to a secluded corner. Ivar caught sight of them having a whispered conversation, Abigail nodding her head and grinning fiercely, and saw a flash of silver as Lisbet pressed a coin into the other woman’s palm. The redhead gave Lisbet another fierce nod before turning around and practically dashing out the front doors.

Lisbet looked a little smug as she came over to rejoin Ivar.

“What was that about?” he asked. Lisbet took his arm and leaned in close to him, like she was sharing a particularly juicy secret.

“Abigail,” she murmured in his ear, “has a bit of a  _beau_. Lady Devlin’s coachman,  Thomas. Nice fellow. Apparently they’re thinking about getting married. She doesn’t want Mama or Papa to know about it though- she’s afraid she’ll lose her position if they find out she’s been seeing someone.”

“So you let her go off to see him?” Ivar asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” Lisbet answered.

“Because you knew he’d be here?”

“Oh yes - Lady Devlin comes to the opera quite frequently. I highly doubted she’d want to miss the opening night of a production like this, and  _someone_  has to drive her.”

“And  _that’s_  why you didn’t argue when your father told you to bring Abigail.”

Lisbet gave him a saucy grin, turning around to face him. “I do have my ways  _Mr. Lothbrok.”_

“Oh Ms. Corneliussen, _I know you do.”_  Ivar gently cupped the back of her neck and pulled her closer. Their kiss was hardly allowed to linger before the sound of an offended cough broke them apart. An older couple dressed in black was standing a few feet away from them, the grey-haired woman giving them both an offended look.

“Do you  _mind_?” she hissed.

“No at all,” Ivar answered, wrapping his arm around Lisbet’s waist and pulling her to him again until they were pressed together from knees to chest. He took the time to linger with this second kiss, and by the time they broke apart Lisbet was breathless and gasping, with a distinctly hungry look in her eye. They still had their audience.

“Better?” Ivar asked the woman as Lisbet swayed in his arms. The woman was now turning an alarming shade of red, sputtering in outrage. Before she could erupt, her husband took her elbow and drew her away, but he looked back and winked at the both of them before he and his wife disappeared into the growing crowd.

“ _Well,”_ Lisbet said, still a bit breathless, “that was certainly something.”

Ivar pulled her to him again, dropping a tiny kiss onto the tip of her nose. “They were just jealous.”

The crowd in the foyer was still growing, the press of bodies growing closer and closer to their little corner. They were beginning to attract more attention, he and Lisbet both, and not all of it friendly. Lisbet took his arm when Ivar began to scowl back at them.

“Do you want to go up to our seats now?” she asked, sensing his discomfort.

Ivar shifted on his crutches and nodded, grateful for the escape. “Lead the way.”

———————————————————————————————————

The performance itself was…unexpectedly good. Most opera usually wasn’t to Ivar’s taste - it was more something that Sigurd liked, and Lisbet went quite often with her mother or her friend Sofia, but this one captured his attention and would not let go. He sat rapt beside Lisbet and watched as the Spanish factory girl Carmen sang of how her love was free and could not be contained, and even though the townsfolk of her home begged her to chose a lover, she denied them all in favor of the soldier Don José. Lisbet was equally entranced, sitting next to him with her fingers entwined with his. Ivar kept stealing glances at her out of the corner of his eye, feeling her every shift of movement through their connected hands. She was squirming in her seat by the end of Carmen’s first song, and by the end of the first act had needed to extract her lace fan from her handbag. As the curtain went up for the start of the second act Ivar gave her fingers a gentle tug.

“Lisbet, come here.”

“What?” Lisbet turned to him, practically panting in her seat.

Ivar tugged on her fingers again, voice going low and gravely. “ _Come here._ ”

That was all it took. Lisbet surged out of her seat and crashed in to Ivar. He caught her around the waist, pulling her down to sit with her legs across his lap while his other hand tangled into her hair and dragged her lips to his. Lisbet groaned at the feel of his lips, losing herself in the hard, solid feel of him, opening her mouth to taste the brandy and oranges on his tongue, and gasping as he pulled away to trail a line of hard, bruising kisses down the line of her neck.

“Did you…did you plan this Ivar?” she gasped out. “Did you know what coming here would do to me?”

“Mmmm..…I did not.” Ivar murmured against the skin of her shoulder, the rumble of his voice shooting straight down her spine to where a heat was beginning to build inside of her. Lisbet whimpered as his hands continued to squeeze and caress her through the thick satin of her gown, tilting her head back and swallowing hard as Ivar bent his head to run his tongue along her collar bones, working his way over to the other side of her neck.

“I’m not s-sure I believe you,” Lisbet whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling herself tighter against him. She yelped when Ivar’s teeth pricked the skin behind her ear, and his pleased chuckle only added to the heat building inside her.

“I am entirely innocent Lisbet,” he murmured against her jaw. “Any  _reactions_  you might be having to this evening’s performance are merely coincidental, I swear to you.” His lips went back to teasing the skin behind her ear. Lisbet arched against him and had to stifle a cry as he found a particularly good spot, and Ivar groaned at the feeling of her writhing on top of him, pulling her face down to kiss her again.

Ivar broke away first, panting hot breaths in her face. “Besides,” he growled, eyes grown deep and black, “I think you like it.” His hands pulled insistently at her hips, rocking her against him while she fought to quiet her growing whimpers and moans. “I think you like being here and letting me do these things to you.” Ivar quickly dipped his head again to run his tongue along the low-cut neckline of Lisbet’s gown. She couldn’t stop the little groan from escaping this time, grateful for the sounds of the orchestra that helped to hide them. Ivar’s grin when he met her eyes again was positively feral. “I think you like it, don’t you Lisbet?”

_“God yes.”_

Ivar caught her lips again in a hard, forceful kiss before he cupped her jaw and turned her to look out at the audience. “I think you like knowing that people can see us too, don’t you my princess?” he said, voice rumbling in her ear. “I think you like looking down at all of those people, and knowing that each and every one of them wishes they could be you. Like that old woman from the foyer. I think you liked giving her a show, of letting her know that you were  _mine_.”

“ _Yes…._ ” Lisbet hissed, still writhing on top of him. “But you are forgetting one thing Ivar.”

“And what is that, my princess?”

Lisbet snarled as she turned back to tangle her fingers in Ivar’s hair. “I want them all to see that  _you are mine_  as well.”

It was Ivar’s turn to groan now as Lisbet attacked his lips with her own, sucking and biting them as she shoved his jacket off and yanked his collar and shirt buttons open to get at more of his skin, running her hot hands over every inch of him she could reach.

Ivar’s grip on her hips grew so insistent that Lisbet turned around to straddle him, rocking her hips against his and whimpering at the hard feel of him through his trousers.

“Yes, Lisbet, yes - oh  _fuck_ , my  _goddess_ , yes - just like that,” Ivar gasped against her chest, breath grown rough and husky as her hips continued to roll over him. The heat between her thighs had grown almost too much for Lisbet to bear, and she whined as Ivar thrust his hips up against her again, hitting that one perfect spot that made her whole body jerk.

“Ivar,” she sobbed quietly against his neck. “I— I need you. I need you. Touch me,  _please_.”

“Shh…It’s alright Lisbet, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Ivar’s face was almost reverential as his right hand slid down her hip and up under the fabric of her skirts. His fingers slowly traced up the warm skin of her thigh, until they found the source of the fire building inside her.

“There?” Ivar said, breath hitching at the feel of the warm wetness coating her delicate flesh.

“ _Yes,_ ” Lisbet hissed as Ivar gently caressed her, biting her lip in a vain effort to stifle her moans. Ivar smiled up at her, his free hand caressing over her neck and dipping down to massage her breasts, growing bolder as she continued to rock herself against his hand.

“That’s it,” he husked out, “That’s my good girl. Just like that.” His fingers found the slick nub of flesh at the top of her entrance and he gave a low chuckle as she jerked and shuddered on top of him.

“Do you like that Lisbet?” he asked, as his fingers began to draw harder and harder circles around her clit.

“Yes,” she snarled back. “ _More_.”

Ivar groaned at her demand, burying his face in her chest and sucking at her plump flesh as he gently eased a finger into the tight, wet heat of her.

“Fuck, Lisbet,  _fuck_. So goddamn wet for me.”

“Yes.  _All_  for you.” Lisbet said, rolling herself against his hand harder and harder.

“Do you want more?”

“ _Yes_.”

Lisbet went still above him as Ivar gently eased another finger inside her, eyes locked on his. She smiled in relief as he began to pump his fingers in and out of her, thumb coming back up to rub circles around her clit as her hips began to move again.  

“Is that what you wanted Lisbet?” Ivar asked, cupping the back of her head and making her look at him. “Is this what you needed from me? For me to touch you like this in a room full of people? Yes?”

She nodded desperately. A growing trembling was beginning to come over her body, and she couldn’t seem to find her voice over the harsh panting of her breath.

Ivar pulled her face closer to him, teeth bared, and Lisbet clutched at his shoulders with her trembling hands and returned his feral grin as he continued ramming his fingers into her, over and over.

“Are you going to come for me Lisbet? Yes?” Another desperate nod. “Do it then. Come for me, my good girl, my princess, my  _goddess_. Come for me now. Let them see you. Let them watch as I make you come apart on my hand.”

Lisbet ground herself against him once, twice more before her orgasm crashed over her. Ivar clapped his free hand over her mouth to muffle her screams as Lisbet’s whole body seized up.

“That’s it Lisbet,  _yes_.” he snarled up at her.

Lisbet clawed at the fabric of his shirt and arched against him as Ivar’s fingers continued to thrust into her, drawing her climax out as long as it would go. She jerked her face out of his grip and sank her teeth into the pad of his thumb, eyes locked on his as she continued to jerk and thrash on top of him.

Finally, Lisbet could come no more, and she collapsed on top of Ivar, gently releasing his hand from her teeth, until she lay sweaty and breathless against him, panting against the flushed skin of his neck. Ivar slowly eased his fingers out of her, wiping them clean on the lining of his jacket before pulling Lisbet’s skirts back down. He gently began to run his hands up and down Lisbet’s back as she struggled to regain her breath. There wasn’t a sound from the other boxes or any sort of commotion from out in the hallway. The third act of the opera hadn’t even started yet. It seemed as though they hadn’t been noticed.

“Are you alright Lisbet?” Ivar asked after a while, concern creeping in to his voice. Surely she’d been quiet for too long?

“Mmm-hmm.” Lisbet murmured sleepily against his neck.

“I…I didn’t hurt you?”

“Mmmm…No. That was….” She trailed off, unable to find the words.

“I know.” Ivar said, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, relieved that she was alright.

Lisbet’s head popped up off his shoulder, concern written in her dark eyes.

“But you—are you alright? Your legs? Should I move?” She braced her hands on the arms of Ivar’s chair, ready to lift herself off, but Ivar’s grip around her waist brought her back to nestle against him once more.

“I’m alright Lisbet. Don’t—don’t move just yet.”

Lisbet smiled, placed a warm kiss on the skin of Ivar’s chest, and laid her head back down on his shoulder, warm and content in the shelter of his arms.


End file.
